Remnants
by Lala Kate
Summary: Who is there to catch you when all hope seems gone and loneliness becomes too much? What if its the one person you would have never expected-the one person who understands in a way no one else can? My submission for Evil Charming week.
1. Chapter 1

_My submission for Evil Charming week. In this universe, Marian is really Marian-not Zelena. And Snow...well...just read. Many thanks to outlawqueenluvr for all of her encouragement and read-throughs! And as always, thank you, dear reader, for taking time to read and comment. :)_

* * *

It began with a touch.

Innocent enough at its onset, fragile in its make-up, desperation its fuel, emptiness its adhesive.

It originated in a man still grieving the wife he buried just over one year ago. It reached out to a woman still privately mourning the loss of her soulmate who lived a world away with the family he left her to save. It spanned the distance between two lonely humans who felt more hollow than alive for longer than they cared to remember.

It was meant to be merely a touch, merely a gesture—nothing more, nothing less. But their humanity had other ideas.

It began as a touch on the shoulder as she washed the dinner dishes, small talk fading as soon as the others made their exit, their children tagging along into the moonlight, lured by promises of a walk by the docks and ice cream before bed. The kitchen morphed from small to gargantuan when it held just the two of them, a fragment of a house filled with memories of both the living and the lost. There was so much shared history between them, both bitter and sweet, and he wasn't certain just why he stayed behind that night after Emma and Killian left with Henry and little Neal. The truth was that he wasn't certain he wanted to know.

That's when he touched her. That's when it all began.

She paused at the onset of the contact, having almost forgotten what it was like what it was to feel a man's touch on her body. It was soothing, even as it jarred her, for she knew this wasn't the touch she cried out for from the depths of her dreams, this wasn't the touch that gave her the child now asleep in her crib just upstairs, the child her father knew nothing about. But it was a touch, and a gentle one—a needy one, one she understood even though she wasn't sure just how she should respond.

His palm did not move at first, it remained on her shoulder, the delicacy of her skin crying out to the barren wasteland of his soul.

She didn't ask him to stop. So he didn't.

Instead the touch moved, slowly at first, spanning the length of her upper arm until it came to rest just above her elbow near her waist. She abandoned the dishes, allowing them to lay helplessly in the soapy water as she closed her eyes to reality and basked in the ability to feel. His hands moved again, up and down in a slow dance, one neither of them knew but would soon falter through step by step.

She leaned into his chest, and his warmth hit her everywhere at once as skin accustomed to being solitary basked in the glow of companionship. His hands continued the waltz they'd begun, but their tempo increased along with the pace of his heart until their breaths were weaving a parallel design that pushed away all reason.

This was madness. They both knew it. But it was all they had.

The touch grew bolder in its assertions, tracing hips, encircling her waist, making her feel light in her shoes and more nervous than she could remember in a long time. This was new, but oh so familiar, the persistent gnawing of need, physical in its nature, emotional at its core. She should move away, she knew this, but the lure of him nudged her closer.

He welcomed her with open arms and a broken heart.

His nose grazed her neck, breath sparking flame, a flame they succumbed to with no words and no hesitation. The course had been mapped, the journey had begun, and she shifted in his arms then, unable to look him in the eye just yet, but willing to let him kiss her cheek.

The kiss didn't stay there—it needed more—craved everything, and it soon consumed her temple, her forehead, her jaw before honing in on lips primed for his. Mouths opened, tongues danced, the moves awkward yet unhindered, all pretense now tossed aside. They both knew what this was and what it wasn't, a carnal craving, a remedy for the lonely, and they drank of it greedily, two parched souls who had found an oasis, even if it was only for one night.

He lifted her easily, setting her on the edge of the counter as she kicked off her shoes, sliding into him as buttons were undone and shirts cast aside alongside all inhibitions. Fingers sought her nipple beneath black lace, and she moaned as she hadn't in ages, going under the tide of simply being a woman with no immediate desire to come up for air. Sensation targeted her breasts and pulsed lower, the sheen of sweat on his chest only making her need more acute.

Teeth joined lips as he marked and tasted her skin, her inner fire like cinnamon on his tongue, the feel of her burning him up but making him crave more. Her skirt was pushed to her hips, her undergarments removed, and then he felt her in a manner that took both of their breaths.

That's when they looked at each other. But they chose not to stop.

She pressed into his hand, he slid into her body, connecting them in ways they'd never dreamed of, never sought. Then his pants were shoved down and he was inside of her truly, making her groan as he moved in deep.

They were sloppy and selfish, groping, nipping, taking as much as the other would give, trying to fill a soul's worth of emptiness with someone else's missing half. Her climax seized her out of nowhere, making her convulse and cry out as nails imprinted this moment on his skin. He came seconds later, his forehead on her shoulder, the wrong name on his lips.

 _Snow._

She didn't let go then, but didn't press tighter as tears mingled with sweat and bodies stayed connected.

 _I'm sorry,_ he whispered.

 _Don't be,_ she breathed. _I know._

She touched his face with fingers now trembling as he shakily breathed in her hair, both swallowing down the knowledge of who was missing, both clinging to the world they had left.

There were no more words, they seemed to hide as they dressed, locked inside thought and emotions as bodies once again covered themselves. Yet hands somehow found each other once again, a last gesture from one human remnant to another, a last chance to cling to the reality that they both still lived before separating and returning to a solitude no longer wanted by either.

His walk home was somehow longer. Her house seemed larger than before. Neither slept until the witching hours of morning, their skin still tingling from touches previously forbidden, their newly awakened humanity reluctant to slumber once more.

 _Regina_ , he chastised himself, apologizing into the empty pillow of the wife he lost, pressing it into his chest until sleep finally came for him.

 _David,_ she uttered, rubbing her arms as if they could explain to her what exactly had happened when her armor clattered to the kitchen floor along with her clothes and her sanity.

He had left her with no intention of returning. She went to bed believing it was done.

Yet she found him on her doorstep within a week, his face and heart more transparent than her own reflection.

And she did not turn him away.


	2. Chapter 2

It's been a long time since she's felt like this—warm, cared for, hall-full rather than hollow, like an actual woman rather than just a mayor and a mother. She snuggles into it, burrowing in, holding on, wondering just when this will crash and burn around them as has every other good thing in their lives.

"You're thinking awfully loud this morning."

She presses up from his chest and stares into gentle eyes she'd never dreamed would look at her like this, ones she never knew she needed to caress and tease her, until suddenly they did.

"I'm sorry."

He tips her chin in his direction, kissing her lightly as a warm palm rubs her back.

"It's too early to be apologizing, Regina," he breathes. "We haven't even gotten out of bed yet."

She smiles, biting her lower lip as insecurities war with the primal need to grab on to life.

"You know what I'm capable of, David," she murmurs, her index finger tracing circles on his chest. "I could have leveled the entire town this morning without ever having left my bedroom."

He chuckles, flipping her on to her back and kissing her soundly, his kisses tasting more and more of contentment rather than desperation and loss.

"Remind me never to pick a fight with you before bed," he mutters, burrowing his mouth into her neck, making her back arch deliciously into him. He's been staying over sometimes, and it's nice—it's very nice, actually, and smacks of coziness, something neither of them had ever imagined possible when both of their worlds crumbled into ash. He finds that spot just below her ear that does things to her, and she hisses, reaching down to stroke him leisurely until he drops his head to her chest.

"Shhh," she admonishes as he lets out a low moan. "You'll wake the kids."

"Neal's probably already awake playing with that _Thomas_ Train Set you put in his room," he laughs, moving his mouth down her jawline. "And Nadia had a great set of lungs. She'll let you know when she's ready to get up."

She starts at his easy manner in referring to the guest room as Neal's, even though it had been her idea to turn the space into a playroom with a small futon that easily doubles as a toddler bed. And it _is_ Neal's at the moment, although she'd explained to Henry that Nadia was nearly a year old now, that she'd soon need a safe place to play and that the guestroom was simply gathering dust in its disuse. If her son had thought the trainset to be an odd addition, he'd wisely said nothing.

But she can't help but wonder if he knows.

Then he's kissing her open mouthed, and her worries start to blur until her mind is hazy and her body awake. This kiss is warm and lazy, a perfect prelude to morning sex, something they've indulged in only once as they've been mindful of him leaving before curious eyes have made their way out of bed. But their diligence has been slipping as of late—there's an extra toothbrush and a man's razor in her bathroom, and last week she bought Neal his own toothbrush and _Thomas_ towel and washcloth set to use whenever they stay over. To Neal, it's all a big adventure, a sleepover at Auntie Gina's house, a chance to play with Henry's old toys and his own train set.

But to them, it's a game changer, a step away from unplanned, half-dressed sex to an arranging of schedules and packing of bags. Of course, this only happens when Henry stays over with Emma and Killian. But both of them know that soon, something is going to give.

"Are you sure about this?"

He pushes himself up slowly, stroking the worry lines from her face.

"I mean, do you think it's a good idea?"

"You don't want me to spend the night anymore?"

She rolls her eyes at him, earning herself a warm chuckle and a teasing stroke between her thighs.

"If I didn't, you wouldn't be here, Charming," she scoffs, making his smile all the broader. She strokes his hair, reveling in its coarse texture, still unable to completely process what they're actually doing. "It's just that we're not going to be able to keep this a secret much longer. Somebody will notice your car, or Neal will say something…"

He presses his lips to her own, effectively silencing her protest.

"We have nothing to be ashamed of, Regina."

His words press in, and she feels each one, wishing unwanted guilt wouldn't accompany making love to this man who is slowly bringing parts of her back to life.

"I'm not sure anyone else would agree with you," she counters. "I mean, no matter how far I may have come, to some people in this town I'll always be the Evil Queen, and you'll always be…"

She stops short, seeing the familiar spark of pain in his eyes.

"Snow White's husband," he finishes for her, her eyes closing out his words as she nods. "Even though she's been gone…"

His voice breaks, and she caresses his cheeks, allowing him a moment to breathe, to remember, to grieve.

"Sometimes I think Henry knows."

The words tumble out before she can catch them.

"Has he said something to you?"

"Not exactly," she answers. "But he suggested that Neal should come over more often, that he'd feel comfortable in the playroom and might even enjoy sleeping over."

He nods, pressing his lips together.

"Sounds reasonable," he utters, watching as she bites her bottom lip. "But you think there's more to what he said?"

"I'm not sure," she sighs. "It just felt like he was waiting for me to say something, like he knows I've been keeping something from him and already has a pretty good idea of what it is."

He strokes her cheek, her forehead, her hair, his face still irritatingly calm.

"Would it be so bad if he did?"

She sighs and looks towards the window before gazing back up at him.

"I don't know. I'm not altogether sure just how Henry would feel about his mom banging his grandad."

He nearly collapses on top of her as a bark of laughter puffs out his nose.

"I'm not sure how I feel about it when you put it like that."

She laughs then, she can't help it, and he leans into to kiss her, taking his time, calming her down.

"Regina, if you'd really rather Neal and I not spend the night…"

"No," she interrupts, placing a finger on his lips. "It's not that, it's just…"

She pauses, trying to keep her thoughts from running ahead of her mouth.

"I know this…this isn't exactly easy for you," he puts in. "What we're doing."

She pauses, trying to clear morning out of her throat.

"But it is. It's too easy, being with you like this." His gaze intensifies, making her heart beat all the harder. "That's what scares me."

She sees something click in his mind.

"Not everything has to be hard, Regina," he breathes. "We've just gotten used things being that way over the years."

"For good reason," she chirps back, knowing he'll have no rebuttal to that. "How do you stop looking over your shoulder, stop waiting for the next shoe to drop, when that's all you've ever known?"

He breathes in, considering his words carefully. This has to be as hard for him as it is for her. God knows he's lost just as much as she has.

"I'm not sure. But I think Snow would have said it all has to do with hope, that we should never stop believing in the possibility of a happy ending."

Her heart flutters at his fractured words and the images they conjure, images of lives both have had ripped out of their hands, leaving them bleeding, broken and raw. He's swallowing hard, his eyes filling in spite of himself, and she hates herself for reopening that wound, one that's just starting to scab over for him.

"How about some breakfast?"

She nods and tries to smile as he rolls off of her, careful not to mention the slight quivering of his chin. It's not as though she minds—God knows she still has her moments when her insides cave in over missing Robin, especially when she's cradling the daughter he'll never know, one who will never know him. But David is protective, of himself, of her, of his memories of Snow, and she respects this about him-God, she understands it, feels it with everything she has. She lets him tug on his pajama pants in silence as she tries to restore her own faltering composure.

"The last time you made breakfast, there was flour on the ceiling."

A low chuckle breaks the silence, and he turns back towards her, his eyes a bit bloodshot but his chin now steady.

"That was Neal's fault, not mine."

His voice is stronger now.

"So you keep saying," she tosses back. "But if it happens again…"

"I'll clean up after myself," he states as he tugs on a gray fitted t-shirt. "I promise."

He leans down to kiss her, needing to ground them both in what is rather than what was. Her fingers move around his neck as his stubble rubs her cheek, its texture matching their relationship-young, rough around the edges, but steadily growing.

"I'll start the coffee."

It's that statement that gets her, something so small and commonplace, but it's suddenly everything, that he's making coffee for her, that he knows just how she likes it, that he'll have her mug warm and ready the moment she and Nadia make it downstairs. She thinks that taking care of a family is as deep as need for him as it is for her, and she swallows down her own tears as he draws back from her.

The sheets are warm and smell of him, and she lets herself just lie there and stretch into what they've created as he steps out of the room. It's all so messed up, the two of them together, but it's working, it's helping, it's something she needs, something he does, 're living, actually living again, and damn it all, she's going to hold on to it with everything she has, even if some people in this town may call it questionable. It's theirs. It's what they've made with the remnants of lives that went to hell and back more than once.

God help them both.

* * *

 _Penny for your thoughts?_


	3. Chapter 3

It hits him sometimes, a feeling he recognizes even in its oddity, like a new leather boot that fits but has been crafted by a different cobbler. It strikes him when she touches his arm as she's prone to do-odd how he never noticed just how physical a being she has always been, how she reassures herself through touch far more than through conversation. It washes over him when his son snuggles into her lap for a story or gives her a kiss on the cheek, or when her daughter burrows her dark head into his neck. It rushes over him like the most delicious magic when his name tumbles from her lips as he moves inside her, as her nails scrape the surface of his skin, as she flutters and clenches around him until he empties himself inside of her and they both fall panting into a sweaty, sated heap.

But there's something about watching her nurse Nadia that freezes him in time.

He'd stumbled upon them and watches quietly from the still dark shadows of the hall, feeling a bit like an intruder as the baby sucks at her mother's breast. Something primal aches as the image of Regina morphs into one of Snow, as memories of Neal feeding from his late wife's breast crash into what is happening in front of him now.

"You can come in if you like."

The present draws him back, and he smiles and shakes his head, wondering how in God's name he could even think he'd been hiding from her. One doesn't hide from Regina, he thinks. She's the expert, one who has spent much of her life hiding from everyone else. She's adept at reading the shadows.

"You don't mind?"

Her eyes find his from across the room.

"It's not as though you haven't seen everything," she whispers with a wry grin.

He moves into the nursery, into its ivories, lavenders and sage greens, comforted somehow by the muted squeak of the rocking chair, the chair in which she'd rocked Henry when he was this small, a chair that linked them by blood in a manner that spans decades. Nadia is nearly asleep now, her lips occasionally sucking before going slack.

"This is different," he breathes. She gazes up at him, her brow creasing in an unspoken question. "Nursing your baby...Robin should be here with you for this."

The chair stops in mid rock.

"But he's not," she states. "He's in New York with his family."

He kneels beside her, reaching out to cup her cheek.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought that up."

A soft noise pushes up her throat.

"Don't apologize," she murmurs as she removes her breast from Nadia's mouth and shifts the sleeping infant just so. "We're the ones who were left behind. Not them."

Their eyes lock then, and his close as he nods, as time flies before his vision, as memories assail him from every direction at once. Nadia stirs slightly, and his hand cups her dark head automatically, a surge of protectiveness wafting over him as she settles into his touch.

"I won't be able to do this much longer," Regina whispers, staring wistfully at her daughter. "She's cutting two more teeth." She pauses, and he notes a tinge of regret in her voice. "I never got to do this with Henry."

There is a softness to her that reveals itself only with children, and he thinks for not the first time that she and his son have claimed each other, just as Nadia has laid claim to his own heart.

"Cherish every second," he mutters. "We both know how fleeting time can be."

Her eyes lock with his again, and he spies something hovering in them, something painful, something she'd rather not entertain.

"I'm sorry...that you never had this with Emma."

The sting of loss has never completely left him, but he stares at her and cups her face, his thumb tracing a soft line over bone and skin.

"That's the past," he says. "We've talked about this, Regina."

She swallows and nods, feeling emotions he knows she struggles to process. The depths of her self-doubt and self-loathing had astonished him at first, even though he was aware of their existence, even though Snow had told him of their extent several times. But he reads them now and wonders how he'd missed them before, how anyone misses them when they play out like a fractured symphony across her features.

"We both know the past never truly leaves us," she returns.

"No," he utters. "But it doesn't control us, either."

She blinks repeatedly, her eyes damp and luminous as night's fleeting shadows hover in the promise of pre-dawn.

"Why are you with me?"

Her question hangs between them, and he strokes her cheek again, watching as she leans into his touch.

"Why are you with me?" he questions. She smiles then, and he's struck by how beautiful she is just like this, bare-faced, hair uncombed, looking far younger than her years will ever let on.

"It beats the hell out of being alone."

His chuckle makes her smile broadens, and he leans in to kiss her temple, struck by the slight waft of apples and honeysuckle. She smells like spring, like newness, like the first blossoms after a long winter, and his mouth seeks hers, tasting morning as he kisses away the staleness of sleep. She hums and kisses him back, noses nudging, careful not to wake the baby sleeping between them.

Footsteps pad down the hallway and stop just short of the nursery, and he looks up to see his son standing in his pirate pajamas, rubbing one eye with a drowsy fist as his other hand clasps the arm of his stuffed dog. Regina slides the robe over her breast as David silently beckons Neal forward, and the boy moves into his father's arms, laying his head in the crook of his neck as blonde waves that need trimming stick straight up on one side. He breathes him in and hugs him close, kissing a head still warm from blankets and smelling of baby shampoo.

Neal's body goes slack against him, his breathing steadying within a couple of minutes.

"He's out," he mouths, watching her eyes soften at his words. He stands then, knees popping in the process, and looks down at her, motioning towards her bedroom with his head. Her lips tug upwards as she catches his meaning and carefully rises from the rocking chair, Nadia nestled securely to her chest. They creep down the hall towards their destination, both of them lying down gingerly, careful with the precious cargo they carry.

Neal snuggles into his chest as he pulls the comforter over all four of them, smiling broadly as the boy's nose scrunches. Regina tucks Nadia into the crook of her elbow and strokes her straight black hair as a small thumb ventures into the girl's mouth.

He watches her in the grayish haze that precedes the sun, feels it when her eyes lock onto his, senses something in the flutter of her lashes and way she licks her lips. This, what they have now, what they've created, it's good. Not perfect, not what they'd dreamed, not a relationship without its difficulties, but good all the same.

 _Family_ , he thinks, unable to swallow as the word swirls through his mind. They're becoming an odd, misshapen sort of family, one many might judge or not understand but one that works for them all the same. Two lovers left broken, a boy who'd lost his mother, a little girl whose father didn't know she even existed. Yet they were loved, these children, cherished to the point of pain, snug in this aftershock of a relationship their parents had forged from the charred remnants of their souls.

"You're right," he breathes, watching her eyelids begin to close at sleep's quiet beckoning. "This does beat the hell out of being alone."

He hears her sniff as she nods and feels her sigh of acknowledgement, one that carries a promise of things they're both still piecing together but clasp onto with everything they have. Soft fingers reach out to find his arm, and he moves onto his side so he can hold her and Nadia as well as Neal. She shivers, and he pulls the blankets up over her shoulder, losing yet another piece of himself to a woman he'd once despised.

One day soon, they'll let the rest of Storybrooke in on their secret. They'll hold hands openly, they'll kiss at Granny's, he'll park his truck in front of her house overnight without caring who may or may not see. He'll speak openly about Regina to Emma, and she won't live in fear of Henry figuring things out. But for now, this is good for both of them-for all four of them, actually.

It's better than good. It's living.

 _Family_ , he thinks yet again as he gazes at the three sleeping under the protection of his arm. It's the last coherent thought he's able to form as he finally surrenders to sleep's lull with more peace than he's felt since the woman he'd held had been wife.


	4. Chapter 4

It just slipped out while they'd been kissing.

It hadn't even been a passionate kiss, not one born of naked skin and sweat-slicked bodies, not one filled with the heated breath and clashing teeth. It had been a small showing of affection, no more than a peck on the cheek, actually, one given while Neal sat at the table in his booster seat while Nadia remained perched on her mother's hip, one received over a stove where pancakes rose and bacon sizzled.

"I love you."

The shock still encompasses them, and she's not certain whose eyes are rounder. Her legs shake beneath her, threatening to give way at any moment as her pounding heart presses tears from her heart to her eyes within seconds.

"Oh, God."

Her words tremble, and he clasps them to his chest with a tenderness she's helpless to resist. His hand is now warm on her cheek, and she spies it in his eyes-conflict mixed with peace, the same emotions that rule her life now that David and Neal have become such an essential part of it. Her breath is uneven, yet his is steady, and she fights giving in to its pull, the pull that is David, the safety that is Charming, the need inside her that gnaws at her insides with a ferocity she'd believed forever lost to her after Robin left town with Marian.

Then his fingers stroke her cheek, and she's melting, she feels it, her atoms rearranging themselves without her permission into emotions engulfing everything she is, like ivy overtaking old stone walls and forcing life back into hollow crevices. She can't move, can't breathe, and she wonders just why she'd exposed herself to feelings that have inevitably led to her downfall time and time again.

Love isn't weakness, but it leaves one vulnerable to pain.

Yet she's here, and so is he, whole somehow in spite of the scars and bruises they'll both bear for life. His arms are now around her, and there is nothing in the world for a few blessed seconds except them-the two of them and their children-and she wishes she could freeze time again as she had once before, that she could cling to David, Neal and Nadia, that Henry would accept them as she hopes he will, that fears of losing this would simply vanish as suddenly as her happiness has so many times in her past.

Then his breath is on her temple, his fingers in her hair, and she gives in to the inevitable as warm lips form words on her skin that take root in her heart and bloom through the ashes.

"I love you, too, Regina."


	5. Chapter 5

She starts, her eyes blinking haphazardly as she props herself up on her elbows and gazes around the bedroom.

There it is again. Someone is pounding on her front door.

David snorts in his sleep beside her, and she puts on her glasses so she can see the clock. Eight twenty-eight a.m. Shit. They overslept.

Regina slides out of bed and grabs her robe, tying it around herself securely as she hurriedly makes her way down the steps. The last thing she needs is for Nadia to wake up and start howling again-they'd had a rough enough night with her as it is. An eleven month old with an ear infection isn't exactly a recipe for a good night's sleep, and she'd had a hard time resting at all, even after David took a shift with the baby so she could try to get some shut-eye.

The floor is cold under her bare feet, and she reaches the door and looks out the peephole, cursing under her breath when she sees exactly who's standing on her front porch.

It's Emma. And she does not look pleased.

Regina breathes in and unlocks the door, attempting to steel herself against whatever might be coming her way.

"Is he here?"

Regina blinks, tossing Emma what she hopes is a withering look.

"You're out and about early today."

"That's because I was supposed to meet Dad at Granny's almost half an hour ago," Emma returns. "I've tried calling him, but he's not answering his home or cell phone or his texts."

"He's probably still asleep."

"Don't bullshit me, Regina," Emma cuts in. "You know I can always tell when you're lying."

The women stare at each other as cool air rushes under Regina's robe, making her shiver as she crosses her arms over her breasts.

"Is he here? With you?"

Regina swallows, inhaling sharply before a sound behind her takes her off guard.

"Yes," David answers, moving down the stairs to stand directly behind her. "I'm here."

Heat floods her face as his presence warms her body, and an arm slides protectively around her middle, leaving Emma with no doubt as to the current state of their relationship. She leans into him slightly, greedily taking the support he so freely offers before opening the door a bit further and gesturing towards her fourier.

"You'd better come in before you wake the whole neighborhood," Regina says, and Emma closes her mouth, moving past both of them, bringing the cold inside with her. Regina's stomach drops to her knees, but a soft kiss whispered across her temple allows her to take a deep breath.

"It's alright," David breathes, and she nods, even though her mind and emotions fear that nothing may be alright ever again. Emma turns and stares at the pair of them, her face moving through a myriad of emotions before she clears her throat and puts her hands on her hips.

"Were you ever planning on telling me? About... _this_?"

Emma gestures towards their covered-up state of undress, Regina's hastily knotted silk robe, David's shirtless, pajama-pants only attire, prompting Regina to tug the corner of her robe a little closer to her neck. David sighs into her shoulder before moving out from behind her and taking her right hand within his, leaving her back feeling uncomfortably exposed.

"Of course we were," he answers. "When we felt the time was right."

Emma's mouth drops open again, her eyes rounding in two seconds.

"When was that going to be? After the two of you moved in together? Maybe had another kid or two?"

"Shhh," Regina says, pointing towards the staircase. "The children are still asleep."

Emma breathes in as if she's about to say something, then stops herself, dropping her hands to her side in frustration.

"Maybe we should take this into the kitchen," David suggests, doing his best to keep the situation as calm as possible. "I'll make everyone some coffee, and we can talk." The look he gives his daughter is pointed, the squeeze to Regina's hand meant to be reassuring.

Emma stares directly into her before nodding and following her father into the other room. A wail from upstairs captures Regina's attention, and she rubs her free hand over her scalp, silently counting the seconds until Nadia cries out again. She motions for David to go on into the kitchen before heading back upstairs, her hopes that Nadia will just go back to sleep as rudely interrupted as her own morning lie-in. She steps into the nursery and picks up her red-faced, unhappy baby, cradling the child to her chest, kissing dark, matted hair before laying her down to change her swollen diaper.

She kisses Nadia, now sporting a dry footed sleeper and smelling of baby lotion as they make their way back downstairs. Regina's heart hammers loudly into the kitchen's weighted silence, and she glances at David before returning her gaze to Emma, now standing by the counter with both arms crossed over her chest.

"We're doing nothing wrong, you know."

David's words slide over her, the very reassurance he'd whispered over her nakedness in private now shared with the one person they both need in their corner.

"Then why in God's name have you been sneaking around?" Emma fires back. "Acting like kids trying to grab a quick fuck behind their parent's back?"

Regina's eyes narrow.

"It's not like that," David states, laying a hand on Regina's shoulder as Nadia begins to whimper into her mother's robe. "At all. And Regina and I have every right to keep our relationship private until we see fit to bring it out into the open."

"Of course you have that right," Emma returns. "But don't you think you could have let _me_ know before all of Storybrooke figures it out? For God's sake-I'm your daughter," Emma continues before looking directly at her. "And your best friend."

Regina swallows hard.

"It's nothing personal," she begins as she strokes Nadia's hair and sways back and forth to sooth the girl. "But you of all people should understand the sort of talk we'll be facing once we let the proverbial cat out of the bag. Prince Charming and The Evil Queen-come on. Do you think everybody is going to just accept us as a couple and wish us well?"

"People might just surprise you, Regina," Emma says. "And I'm not just anyone. I'm family. So's Henry."

She draws in a sharp breath.

"Henry knows?" Regina questions, earning herself an eye-roll from Emma.

"Who do you think told me to look for Dad here?"

"Shit," Regina mutters, wondering what in God's name she's going to say to her son when she next sees him. "I wondered if he suspected, but…"

"Our son isn't stupid," Emma fires back. "And he's not upset about... _this_...either, just so you know."

David gazes back at Regina and gives her a soft smile, the sort he offers her when she confesses her fears to him while lying naked in his arms.

"So he's okay with us?" Regina asks. "Me and David?"

"He was really matter-of-fact about the fact that Dad had more than likely spent the night here last night," Emma returns. "Like it's just part of his life now." She pauses to take a deep breath as the coffee maker sputters out its final drops of Kona Roast. "He wants both of you to be happy-shit, we all do. Losing Mom like we did…and Robin..."

Nadia starts to cry and reaches out towards David who takes her in his arms as if she belongs there. The baby rubs her right ear before settling into his chest as he strokes her back and kisses her dark hair, sniffing back tears Regina knows are pressing hard to get out.

"I'll always love your mother," David manages, his tone fractured and low. "Always. You know that, Emma. But I've come to love Regina, too."

The silence is overwhelming, making Regina wish that she still had Nadia in her arms as a distraction. It's out there now, the fact that they love each other, the fact that they've chosen to move forward after losing their perspective soul-mates to circumstances beyond their control.

"Wow," Emma breathes, running a hand through her hair. "So this is serious, then. Not just a rebound thing?"

David looks over at Regina, the tenderness in his gaze washing over her in waves.

"It's serious," Regina answers, earning herself that soft smile she now needs as much she needs air.

"And do you love my dad?"

The question hangs between her and Emma, daring her to share feelings she still considers private.

"I do," Regina confesses, her bottom lip trembling at the sheen in David's eyes. "I love him very much."

Emma presses her lips together before blowing air out of her cheeks.

"Then I'm happy for you," Emma says. "I truly am. God knows the two of you have been through hell and back over the past couple of years and deserve some happiness." She pauses to clear her throat. "But you need to talk to Henry. Now. He deserves to hear about this from you."

Regina exhales and nods as a small set of feet make their way down the steps and into the kitchen. Neal walks straight over to her, raising his arms up in her direction, and she picks him up, snuggling into her chest as he sticks his thumb into his mouth. She strokes blonde hair sticking up every which way as she makes her way to a chair and sits down, looking back at Emma who is studying the four of them rather intently.

"Morning, buddy," David mutters, walking over to stroke his son's tousled head, balancing Nadia securely with his other arm.

"You all make quite the picture, you know," Emma states, her expression oddly neutral. "Like an actual family."

Regina's heart flutters beneath Neal's sleep-warmed forehead, and she realizes that if Henry were here, this new family of hers would feel complete. She's put her heart out there again, damn it, knowing full-well what can happen when it's entrusted to another human being. But blue eyes gaze into her from where he stands, promises made to her in private now on full display for his daughter and everyone else to see.

"This works for us," David replies, taking a step towards Emma. "Being together like this-like the family we've become. It's not what we expected and certainly not something we planned, but it's good and healthy and...and right." He pauses to look back at Regina, his gaze warming her in places nobody but he's allowed to see. "And it would mean everything to us to have both your and Henry's blessing."

Emma stares at David before casting a glance over at Regina and Neal.

"Then you've got my blessing," Emma says with a shrug, stepping into her dad's embrace, careful not to squish Nadia in the process. Muscles relax around Regina's ribcage, and she draws her first full breath since Emma showed up this morning as father and daughter hug.

"Mama," Nadia babbles, effectively forcing Emma and David to separate and making them chuckle. Regina waves at her daughter from her seat, wincing as the baby whimpers and rubs her ear again before leaning back into David's chest.

"Dada."

The room freezes as Neal snuggles further into her breast, all air seemingly sucked out of it. Three adults look back and forth at each other, the weight of Nadia's pronouncement hitting them all like a Mack truck in a head-on collision.

"Well," Emma finally breathes out, placing her hands back on her hips. "If things between you weren't already serious, they sure as hell would be now."


End file.
